


Movement

by MellowJam



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: A fun discovery of modern wonders, Also Dracula loves cats I don’t make the rules, Assholes being in love, Barebacking, Biting, Blood Drinking, Cumplay, Dracula doesn’t fuck a twink for once, Dracula doesn’t make it to Bob’s house, Dracula enjoys being shot in the head by handsome mercenaries, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake Science, Graphic Description, M/M, Mercenaries, Minor Character Death, Possessive Behavior, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23679787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowJam/pseuds/MellowJam
Summary: « - I hope they find that fuckin’ cure real fast so I can put another bullet in you. »Dracula lets out a small chuckle, looking almost fond.« Darling, the balls on you. »———————Everybody mentions the donors but nobody talks about the mercenaries who have to endure Dracula’s babbling when he is locked up in the Jonathan Harker’s facility.
Relationships: Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 55





	1. Prelude

First time Joel sees Count Dracula, it’s on that goddamn beach, after he shoots Kate in the head. She was a sweet girl, and the memory of them draining a bottle of rum with the other mercenaries makes him grab his gun and fire at the vampire before he tries anything else. Mrs Van Helsing is yelling at him but he ignores her, staring at the hole in the so-called undead’s forehead that the others immediately charge up in the van. He used to think that this job was a well funded joke, but that Dracula guy is, if not an immortal leech, at least a fucking maniac. He barely listens to the woman who’s now barking orders for them to move out and turns to Kate, dead eyes staring into the void as she lays on the beach. What a fucking waste. 

They take her too, not even trying to cover up the blood that’s now staining the sand. 

He gets scowled by his superior during the trip, but he knows the man would have done the same if it had been his friend laying there dead on the shore. Seeing that his lecture is falling into deaf ears, his boss pats him on the shoulder and turns up the radio. They don’t speak until they arrive at the facility, and Joel is already tugging on his third cigarette. He wonders if rum will ever taste the same. 

Dracula is still out (dead) when they arrive. He’s not buying into that whole vampire shit so he can’t help but scoff when they drag his body inside and lock him up in his elaborate glass prison. Van Helsing apologizes some time late, offers him her condolences and sends him home. 

His trigger finger is still twitching when he unlocks the door of his shitty Londonian apartment. He throws his jacket on the back of the couch, scratches the head of the Persian cat laying there, and goes directly into the bathroom. He showers until the water turns cold and his skin hurts from scrubbing, and passes out naked as soon as his body hits the bed. 

When he wakes up, it’s because his phone is ringing. He answers without even looking at the screen, voice still hoarse from the sleep. The clock on the nightstand says ten am. Fuck.

« - Yeah?   
\- Anderson, where the fuck are you?  
\- Sorry boss, overslept. »

There’s a blank on the other side and he just waits for the bad news that usually follows those kind of breaks. 

« - Hurry up, he’s awake. You’re taking the first night shift. »

He nods and even though he can’t see him, his boss makes an acknowledgement sound and hangs up. He swears under his breath and wonder how fucked up his shot was for the guy to still be alive. 

The cat, Lafayette, greets him as soon as he steps out of the bedroom. 

« - Yeah yeah, you’re hungry, I know. »

The grey fur ball meows in return and waits patiently in the kitchen, near his bowl for his owner to drop the foul smelling cat dough in it. Joel doesn’t take the time to make himself a coffee before he dresses up and leaves. It takes him a while to get to the Jonathan Harker’s facility because London’s traffic is shit, and when he finally gets there, it’s almost noon. Sun is high in the sky for once, but the gentle heat vanishes as soon as he steps into the old building. It’s always freezing cold in there, something to do with the grey stones that keeps the warmth away. 

Most of his colleagues are already there when he makes it to the conference room, geared up and armed. Van Helsing is just beginning her lecture but she does send him a curious look when he arrives and sits in the back, not feeling like listening to her pseudo-scientific explanation as to how and why Count Dracula is still alive. Well, moving at least. She tells everyone about how his blood could cure so many diseases if they manage to tame it into a vaccine and he can’t help but tune her off. 

She sounds like a crazed cult leader, promising so many things to her followers without noticing that half the mercenaries here are at least as doubtful as he is. Somehow, even after all he saw yesterday evening on that beach, he can’t quite believe that such things as vampires exist. All he knows is that whoever is financing this circus has deep pockets and that’s good enough for him. He spares a thought for Kate who’s probably laying cold in the morgue he knows is in the facility’s basement, silently disapproving of his greed. But it’s not with a hole in her forehead that she can pay his rent, so he discards her memory in a corner of his head and tries to focus. 

« - In no occasion must you interact with him. He is a five hundred years old master manipulator, he knows how to enter your mind and toy with your thoughts. You may have the gun, but he’s still the wolf chasing the flock. » 

The imagery doesn’t amuse him. 

Van Helsing proceeds by explaining that there will be two guards in the prison hall, two at the door, and six others patrolling the compound at any given moments. She also encourages them to wear visible cross symbols around their neck and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the advice. 

She’s a busy woman because as soon as she’s finished, she leaves in a hurry, an excited jump to her steps. The head of security takes over and pairs them with each other before handing them a sheet of their working hours. He’s with Graham, a soft spoken mercenary with bright blue eyes and soft curls framing his baby face. The guy doesn’t even spare him a glance when they leave together for lunch. 

They help as much as they can around the facility, lifting their weights in classified archives when they see some skinny doctor crawling under boxes and boxes of them. He thanks them profusely and buys them a cup of coffee. Soon enough, evening comes and it’s their turn to take guard. They are assigned to the prison hall. 

First thing he notices is that the place is much warmer than the freezing corridors they have been roaming all day. He wonders if it’s to keep their « guest » comfortable and honestly, he wouldn’t put it past Van Helsing. She’s all but obsessed with this guy, swearing he’s the key to some kind of universal cure and that it’s for the good of humanity. In his opinion, it’s way more personal. 

Graham doesn’t seem to care about their prisoner, but Graham doesn’t seem to care about anything so Joel shrugs it off. The guards already present seem eager to be relieved of their duty. One of them even pats his shoulder and whispers something he doesn’t quite catch before leaving.

It seems like he’s been avoiding it until then, but when he finally settles and leans against the wall with his arms close to his flanks, just in case, he finally takes a look at the exotic fish stuck in his edge of technology tank. The man (vampire?) is staring directly at Graham with a small smirk on his face, and somehow Joel has never wanted to hit someone in the face as much as he wants to hit Dracula and break his perfect jawline.

The Count doesn’t exactly look like he’s been shot in the head the day prior. 

He must been clenching his jaw a little too hard, because the sound of his teeth grinding together catches Dracula’s attention and the prick actually beams when he recognizes him. 

« - Oh, would you look at that. They sent in my shooter to look over me. I have to admit, those toys you are making nowadays are very effective. Took me a while to spit the bullet out. » 

Joel almost wants to retort he can make him vomit another or two if he keeps nagging him but he remembers Van Helsing’s instructions and decides against it. Graham seems unbothered and the bastard even yawns before zoning out, hand resting on his holster just in case. He decides that his partner won’t mind if he lights a cigarette. 

He takes one out of the pack and burns the end of it until smoke is already wetting his grey eyes and he has to blow or choke. Smoke is obstructing his view of the prisoner for a few seconds, and he can’t help to provocatively grin back when he notices the man is still staring. 

« - You are doubtful of my true nature. »

God, that fucking pompous accent makes him want to empty a charger in the back of his throat. His mouth is quicker than his brain when he answers despite the orders they were given. 

« - You were just lucky. Next time I won’t miss. »

There’s a small break and even Graham seems surprised to hear him talk back to the monster in the box. If he disapproves though, he doesn’t say it. He watches the exchange with a renewed interest instead.

« - That accent... An American! Well, my dear, you haven’t missed in the slightest. »

Dracula presses a clawed finger in the middle of his forehead and makes a sound, like the one a kid would make while shooting an imaginary gun. 

Fuck. 

See, the thing with Joel is that he’s fucking impulsive. Idiotic some would even say. So when he steps closer to the cage to stare directly into those deep dark eyes, he can’t help but immediately regret it. There’s something wrong with this Count Dracula, and he feels his stomach lurch when he thinks of Kate’s dead gaze. 

The man in front of him is taller, huge. Impressive. Joel is not exactly a small man either. He is slightly broader than Dracula, dirty blond hair and grey eyes, slight stubble where Dracula is clean-shaved and tattooed where the other’s skin is unmarked. Nonetheless, he feels his heart beats hard in his chest, and soon, Dracula is matching its rythme by taping a sharpened nail against the glass. 

He refuses to take a step back when all of his instincts scream « predator » and « danger »

« - I hope they find that fuckin’ cure real fast so I can put another bullet in you. »

Dracula lets out a small chuckle, looking almost fond.

« Darling, the balls on you. »

Yeah. Joel’s not about to tell him he’s scared shitless either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s pretty short but consider it a prelude !  
> I just want to see if people are actually interested in reading this kind of stuff.  
> Please drop some feedback to see if I should bother continuing this story :)  
> Also english is not my first language so if you see any kind of mistake, don’t hesitate to tell me 😘


	2. Donation

Joel knows he’s in for a shitload of trouble when Van Helsing asks him to follow her into her office. She’s looking worn out, thin and pale and probably in a lot of pain if the slight tremor of her fingers is of any indication. It’s not a secret that she’s sick, cancer gnawing at her organs, and Joel can’t help but pity her. She’s so close to her goal, how frustrating it must be to know that she may never reach it before death takes her. 

She shows him the chair in front of her desk and he sits down, fidgeting nervously when she stays quiet and simply stares. 

He knows exactly why he’s there. It’s no mystery to anyone that he’s Dracula’s new favorite toy. Their constant bickering is probably the only interesting thing that’s been happening for the past few weeks. The doctors and professors are stagnant and despite behaving surprisingly well, Dracula can’t seem to cooperate when it comes to donating or receiving blood. In other words, they’re not making any progress. 

Which leads him to this awkward tête-à-tête with Zoe Van Helsing, who is still staring him down when she finally speaks. 

« - I understand that Dracula has become quite fond of you. »

Well, that’s not exactly how he would put it. They can’t seem to exchange more than harsh words and barely hidden insults, if not for the nicknames Dracula enjoys giving him. Even his colleagues find it amusing, calling him Dracula’s sweetheart, vampire fucker and other endearments that makes him want to punch their faces at least as much as he wants to punch Dracula’s. The fuckin’ leech is smart enough, witty even- A real piece of shit who enjoys terrifying the other guards to the point that he and Graham are the only ones still willing to take up the night shifts. 

Van Helsing doesn’t wait for him to protest before continuing.

« As you may have noticed, Dracula keeps getting older. Decaying, if you prefer. He refuses to drink from our donors, no matter how fresh the blood is. »

He doesn’t like where this is heading but nods nonetheless. He’s already on thin fucking ice ever since he disobeyed the orders and shot the vampire in the head, so better tread carefully and keep his big mouth shut. Van Helsing seems to appreciate that because she offers him a tight-lipped smile.

« - What I am asking you is not part of your job, so you are in your rights to refuse, but we would like for you to donate directly to Dracula. He might show himself more ... cooperative. We tried the stick and now- 

\- Now I’m the carrot ? »

He wants to laugh at her face, put his gun and his security pass on the desk and leave. There’s no way he’s letting this fucking prick anywhere close to him, but- Well, she’s fucking sick and miserable, and maybe he can help with that. Maybe he can make it so Kate didn’t die for nothing. Van Helsing seems to expect a direct refusal. He has built himself quite the reputation after all. A hard-headed American vet, too agressive and too honest to fit the British mindset. There’s something that taste like badly-timed pride bubbling at the back of his throat and he groans, not fully able to hide his discontentment. And fuck- He needs that money.

« What’s in it for me? »

She seems surprised he’s even considering accepting but raises an eyebrow at his barely hidden demands.

« Besides helping humanity by playing a major role in modern medicine? 500 pounds at every donation. No biting and no lasting effect on yourself. »

He huffs.

« You don’t actually know that, do you? »

If looks could kill, he would at least be badly maimed by the one she sends him. 

« You’re right. We don’t. »

Joel wants to think that he’s considering it for the right reasons (universal cure and whatnot) but the truth is, he’s only thinking of doing it for the money. He can’t exactly help being a greedy bastard. 

« - 1000 pounds.  
\- 750.  
\- Deal. »

——

They don’t lose time before sending him into the wolf’s den. Dracula seems oblivious to what Van Helsing is offering, and he raises a brow when he sees both him and the head of the operation open the tank and enter. He discards his tablet in order to welcome them but Van Helsing is quick to open the roof and corner him like he is some kind of wild beast they need to keep in check. Well, in a way, she’s not completely wrong.

« - Either this is a punishment or a reward, I’m not quite sure yet. In any case, I’m sure I will enjoy this little visit. What brings you, miss Van Helsing?   
\- It’s neither of those, Count. We are here to bargain. »

He snorts and immediately loses interest, looking at his nails (claws) with a new found attention. 

« Mister Anderson here has accepted to let you feed from him ... »

Dracula looks up.

« And in exchange, you will comply to our future requests. That means donating your own blood for analysis and sincerely answering our questions concerning your condition. »

Joel can’t help but assume that there’s no way Dracula is taking the offer. Why would he accept to drink from him when there are dozens of healthy and greedy students awaiting in one of the conference roo-

« I accept. »

Wait what? 

Van Helsing seems pleased with herself. So please in fact that Joel is starting to doubt her and her motivation. How did she know that Dracula would be so keen into taking this deal? 

« Very good. Of course there will be no biting. You will simply drink from Mr Anderson once an incision has been made by myself or another doctor. »

Dracula nods but his eyes are fixated on him. Joel is starting to feel uncomfortable. The situation is completely out of hand and a nervous sweat is running down his neck and to the small of his back. Now he can’t help but think that the most dangerous person in this room is not the vampire, but the doctor he just sold his blood and soul to. 

« Good, then I’m guessing you both are alright with starting now? »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly at this point I’m just writing this for myself 🧐


	3. Spider Lily

Joel has made quite a few mistakes in his life. Idiotic decisions leading to terrible consequences, with a few disasters on the side. But this? This takes the cake. This is probably the worst thing that’s ever happened to him, and he had been the one to say « yes » despite all the warnings, so he can’t even have to blame it on someone else.

They have Dracula trapped in a corner of the cell. The vampire is careful to avoid the sunlight but his eyes are still staring straight into Joel’s. Two doctors are hurrying around him like persistant flies, cleaning his arm with antiseptics and a soft square of medical cotton. He feels like a lamb led to the slaughterhouse, except that at the end of the killing chain, a wolf is waiting. He can’t help but feel frightened at the thought of what is about to happen. They don’t even know if he will be infected somehow, if he will slowly die like Jonathan Harker did, or if he will walk out of there completely human. He is just a test subject for Van Helsing, nothing more than a rat thrown into a tank full of snakes. And what a viper pits when he glances behind him and doctor Van Helsing is taking notes, scribbling with passion even though nothing has happened yet.

They cut his forearm vertically with a scalpel. He doesn’t flinch. It bleeds heavily and some drops taint the while tiles. He hears growling and snarling, like a wild beast has just been unleashed and is trying to make its way out of Dracula. He doesn’t look up. A moment passes by, then two. 

« What are you waiting for, Mister Anderson? » 

Van Helsing sounds impatient. He takes a step forward and offers his arm to the monster in the dark. As soon as he is in reach, a clawed arm grabs his and tugs him against the vampire’s chest. His trigger finger twitches but he doesn’t even have the time to regain his balance that a mouth is sucking on the wound with a barely repressed apetite. He goes immediately slack and there’s a smile against his skin.

« That’s it, Joel, _Let go_. Good boy. »

There’s a chill that goes all the way up his spine and spreads at the base of his skull. He doesn’t dream like the previous victims described it, but he stays in this strange haze, like a ship lost in the mist. The only thing that feels real is that body he is leaning against, and the tongue retracing the cut until it seals itself under the curious flesh. 

When Dracula straightens up, Joel is panting and hard. The count licks his red, _red_ lips and smiles down at him, still supporting him. He already looks younger, the grey on his temple slowly receiding. He feels like a broken doll, and yet they tug him backwards and Dracula lets him go with a big frown on his face and a displeased scowl. There’s a fleeting thought in his already messed up mind that screams **No!** No, he doesn’t want to be apart from Him, wants to offer his neck and let Him bite down hard enough He won’t be able to let go...

And then.

He blinks and it’s all over. He’s tired, exhausted, one might even say _drained_. But it’s over and he wants to vomit and get away from here. From Dracula, who is still staring at him like he is His and no one else’s. Like he belongs under his fangs.

They sit him in a wheelchair and he is too tired to protest. He must have passed out after this because when he wakes up, he is laying in a hospital bed. He recognizes the institute’s infirmary and its cold, impersonal atmosphere. There’s nothing else but a few machines he is tied to - Pulse and blood transfusion. On his right stands a small bouquet, blue hydrangea in a tight vase. Next to it, a card signed by Graham that only says « You’re a moron. Get better. ». That makes him chuckle and he turns to the small colorful box signed « Dr Van Helsing ». Inside there is a 750 pounds check and small squares of sugar pastes. Of course. He snorts and turns to the last small present they left on the nightstand. 

It’s a single red spider lily. 

——-

He is discharged soon enough. He barely stays a few days at the infirmary before they send him back home for the week. He protests, assures he can still work despite the anemia, but his boss still insists on him resting and so he leaves the institude with only his jacket, Graham’s bouquet and that red spider lily he can’t get rid of. He knows who left it here ; only the vampire would be dramatic and poetic enough to leave such a single rare flower on his nightstand. The deep red color should be enough of a clue too.

As he reaches his car, he hears his name being called by the o so familiar voice of Zoe Van Helsing. She runs after him, her heels hitting the cement of the private parking lot. She’s out of breath after only a few meters but he can’t blame her ; she’s been looking worse for wear lately. 

« - Miss Van Helsing, what can I do for you?   
\- It will be doctor for you, mister Anderson. »

He snorts at that and locks his car back. He knows he won’t be leaving anytime soon but he really needs to go back home and check on his cat. 

« That ain’t the way to speak to someone you’re about to ask a favor from. »

He deliberately accentuates his southern american accent, knowing full well she despises it. And indeed, she frowns and for a few seconds there, she looks like she just bit into a lemon. But she doesn’t comment. Instead, she looks ashamed.

« You’re right. I do need you again. You know of my condition, don’t you? »

He nods.

« - Then you know I don’t have much time left. I need Dracula to cooperate. And he has, for a few days. Unfortunately...  
\- Unfortunately he has developed quite a taste for my blood. »

She shakes her head, and careful, as if worse, she says:

« - Not only your blood, but your company also. He has been seeing this ... Lawyer, and I’m afraid he might be able to get out of here untouched and a free man. I need a reason for him to stay here.  
\- And that reason is me? »

Joel snorts again, the idea of a 600 years old vampire being obsessed by him sounding so ridiculous, he still wonders if all of this is real.

« You can laugh, mister Anderson, but all he talks about is you and my- Well, nevermind. »

He doesn’t ask about her dismissal, but he does frown at her hesitation. He looks down at the scar of his forearm and this- This is definitely not worth the money. But this woman’s life is reaching an end, and maybe, maybe he can save her and so many others by having Dracula spill his secrets. Quite heroic, and what a sacrifice. He hopes they will at least rename the institute for him. 

« Fine. Let me call my neighbor first. »

He does call Rogers, and apologizes deeply when he admits he won’t be able to take care of Lafayette for a few more days. Rogers dismisses his apologies with what he assumes is a large smile and a shake of the head. 

« Don’t worry, Lafayette is such a sweetheart, it’s a pleasure to keep him a few more days. »

Joel thanks him again and ignores the curious look Van Helsing is giving him. She still leads the way to Dracula’s « cage », doesn’t knock as she enters the large basement and doesn’t apologize either when she interrupts the count and a strange sweaty man in a fancy costume having a conversation. The rudeness does seem to bother the vampire, but his scowl disappears as soon as he catches a glimpse of Joel, half hiding behind the small woman. 

« - We will speak of this later, Reinfield. I have more important matters to attend to.   
\- But count, it’s- »

One single glare has who Joel assumes is Dracula’s lawyer fleeing out of room. Then finally (finally?) those deep black eyes are all on him. 

« - Oh, Joel. I’ve missed you, dear boy. »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter of my self indulgent fanfic.


	4. Inside

Dracula keeps staring at him with those bright black eyes and that toothy grin, looking like the cat who got the mouse. Oh what a prey he makes, so willing to serve the devil, so easy to catch. So easy to bite into, to eat, to devour. Already there’s a chill crawling down his spine, licking at the base of his neck. He has to stop himself from taking a step forward, his empty holster hanging low on his hip. He has to stop himself from reaching out to Dracula, who offers him a clawed hand and such a soft smile (fake). Zoe clears her throat, breaks the moment.

« You promised us something if we brought you mister Anderson. Now, I intend to receive my part of the payment. »

Dracula lets out a small laugh, barely amused. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Joel, but Joel can’t stand to stare back anymore. To them, he is nothing but a mean to an end, barely worth 750 pounds, barely worth his london rent. A chuckle escapes him, then a full on laughter. His eyes are wet from it, and he turns to Zoe. The doctors are looking at him like he’s crazy. One even steps back, probably afraid he might have become one of Dracula’s crazed beasts.

« - I don’t remember agreeing to this kind of trade.   
\- Don’t worry, mister Anderson. No harm will come to you. Your colleagues will see to it. »

He looks around, catches Graham’s blue eyes. His partner nods slowly and taps the locked trigger of his assault rifle with his index. That makes his heart beat a bit slower against his chest, soothes the trembling of his fingers... He’s not alone against this predator. A heavy sighs escapes him. He’s suddenly tired.

« What do you want from me? »

He doesn’t know if he’s targeting Dracula or to Van Helsing ; both are equally ruthless. His interlocutors seem as confused as he is, but it’s Zoe who decides to answer first. 

« - I promised Count Dracula that you would have a ... conversation with him before he leaves the facility, in exchange for a larger sample.

\- Excuse me? »

Dracula? Leaving? That’s ridiculous, why would they let him go? He is a killer, and more than that, he is a bloodthirsty monster. Literally. 

« Yes. But we can discuss Dracula’s legal situation later. For now, I need that sample and you need to hold your end of the bargain I made in your name. If you don’t mind, of course, Mr Anderson. We will speak of your reward later. »

On this, she gestures at the doctors surrounding her and they all approach Dracula with extreme carefulness, one holding an impressing collection of vials, and the other furiously scribbling on his notepad. It’s the first time Joel assists to one of their « samples collection » and he is surprised to see Dracula mutilating himself just for a moment with him. 

His claw draws a square on the skin of his forearm, and Joel stares with horror as he peels off a piece of his own skin to drop it into a round glass box they close immediately. They collect some vials of blood from the same wound and as soon as they are finished, he sees the vampire pinch the skin back to normal. 

They don’t seem to be in a hurry, yet they exit the glass prison as soon as they can. Zoe Van Helsing is the last one to leave the jail, but she doesn’t leave the room, close to the control consol in case they suddenly need to burn the vampire down for letting his fangs hang too close to Joel’s neck. 

He’s the one who opens the conversation. 

« What do you want from me? »

Dracula sits on the only chair in the room, crosses his legs and sighs dramatically.

« - The same I always want, dear Joel. Good food and a bit of company.  
\- I think you’ve got the wrong person then. I ain’t exactly good company.  
\- Oh, how wrong you are, my friend. I find your lack of restrain quite entertaining, on the contrary. »

Joel really wants to show him what a real lack of restrain looks like, but he does nothing of the sort and clenches his fists so they don’t land on Dracula’s perfect face. 

« Now, now, don’t look at me like that, my dear. Everyone here knows we’ve grown quite fond of each other over the past few weeks, there’s no need to act so ... repelled. You look like you just bit into a lemon. »

Dracula exhales to let his amusement known and taps the tips of his nails on the pristine table while his other hand navigates the tablet that’s sitting precariously on his knees. 

« You heard miss Van Helsing, didn’t you? I intend to leave this place, and I need to lay low until everything is settled. That is a particularly tedious task with someone with my ... peculiar tastes. That is why I need a willing reserve. A food bank, if you will. Of course, you must take this as a compliment: I am particularly difficult when it comes to food. I will compensate you generously in exchange for your donations. » 

Joel doesn’t quite know what to say to that tirade, except for the now confirmed fact that Dracula really likes to listen himself talk. The offer is so absurd, he doesn’t even consider saying yes. He stands, dusts his clean pants and leaves the room without a word. Dracula is so surprised by his reaction, he doesn’t try to stop him either. He hears Van Helsing and Dracula argue over him, over his behavior, over their fucked up deal, but he keeps going. He keeps going until he’s sitting in his car, tugging on a cigarette like an addict. His phone rings. It’s a text from Graham.

« Ok ? » it says.

He types a quick answer.

« Yeah. Heading back home. » 

And then he drives.

——

Lafayette is there waiting for him when he gets back home. The cat is purring heavily, zigzaging between his legs and he almost trips over the furball. He sighs and takes it in his arms, holding it close to his chest. He doesn’t even shower, simply lays on his couch and lets that silly tv program numb his thoughts.

He blinks and next time he opens his eyes, it’s nighttime and the tv is projecting some sci-fi movie sadly trying to imitate Star Trek. He watches it until his stomach calls upon him to get off the couch and swallow whatever is sitting in his fridge. He doesn’t even look at his phone. He already knows there are several missing calls from the Jonathan Harker’s institute and probably one or two from his closest colleagues. He ignores it and eats some bread and a slice of ham. A poor imitation of a sandwich, but it fills him enough his body isn’t screaming for food anymore. He takes a quick shower, puts on some shirt and a paint stained pants before crawling back to his couch, with a heavy blanket and Lafayette already finding its place on his chest. It’s been a while since he last had a quiet evening like this one. It quietens his thoughts, lets him get away from this fucked up, undead plagued world. The movie is still running. An alien is trying to kill the hero with a sad replica of a laser beam. He laughs at one of their stupid puns and almost jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings. 

A feeling of dread downs on him. Strangely, he already knows who is behind the door. That doesn’t stop him from pushing Lafayette off of his chest to get up and unlock the door.

Without great surprise, Dracula is there, free and happy as a clam. There’s that big, toothy smile on his face and Joel wants to slap it away. 

« - Hello Joel. May I come in?   
\- Fuck no. »

Dracula’s grin falters but doesn’t disappear. Still, Joel takes a satisfaction from it. 

« - I see. I have to admit, I didn’t expect your departure in the middle of our conversation.  
\- There wasn’t any ‘conversation’, you were just listening to yourself. You do that a lot. »

Dracula snorts, visibly amused by Joel’s tentatives to provoke him.

« - 200 years of sleeping underwater will make any man talkative. May I come in?   
\- No. And you’re not a man. »

Lafayette choses this moment to enter the scene. It’s still sleepy from its nap on its owner’s torso, and it rubs itself against Dracula’s legs, leaving grey hair on the vampire’s black pants. 

« Traitor. » 

The cat blinks and meows in response, purring even louder when Dracula picks it up and pets its fluffly head. He instinctively takes a step forward, ready to defend his cat if the vampire decides to rip its head off. Then nothing would stop him from shooting the vampire in the head again.

But nothing happens. Lafayette jumps off of Dracula’s arms and happily trots back in the living room, alive and well. 

Again, Dracula asks :

« May I come in? »

Joel sighs. Dracula is carrying a small suitcase, and not much else. And there’s that small whisper ringing in his ear, encouraging him to welcome the vampire into his house. Fuck. What the hell.

« - ... Fuck me. Just. Come on in.   
\- That’s a bit forward, but I am not saying no.  
\- That’s ... definitely not what I meant. »

Dracula seems to find this very amusing, but Joel notices how quickly he steps through the threshold, probably fearing a sudden change of mind. He might be a fucking asshole of a vampire, but after weeks of interacting and bickering, he can’t exactly make the man sleep outside. If he even sleeps. 

« - You’re sleeping on the couch. And you are NOT welcome in the bedroom. Definitely not. »

Dracula seems pretty satisfied, even impressed by his host’s generosity. He looks at the small flat like the world’s eighth wonder, staring at the lightbulb hanging naked on the wall with fascination. 

« Your house is ... very luxurious. I had no idea they were paying you so well for donating your blood. »

Joel snorts.

« This place is a dump. But I guess it’s not so bad for a londonian flat. »

Dracula has lost interest in the lightbulb, instead watching the TV with a renewed wonder. 

« - You mortals are incredible. How is that called?   
\- A tv. You sit in front of it and you watch the pictures until your brain feels numb. »

The vampire puts a careful finger on the plasma screen, retracing the visage of one of the heroes of that stupid movie. He flinches when Joel changes the program to some kind of reality show with carefully selected people all living half naked in isolation.

Joel takes a sit on the couch and immediately takes a picture of Dracula he sends to Zoe Van Helsing with a vampire emoji. He adds a quick text that says :

« You lost your pet, it followed me home. » 

He doesn’t expect Dracula to be right next to him, looming over the screen.

« - Jesus Christ, you- You need to chill with all those vampire superpowers.   
\- Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.  
\- Yeah well. Stop doing that.  
\- Are you messaging miss Van Helsing? »

Joel hums in response and shows him the picture he just took. The vampire takes the phone from his hand and navigates it awkwardly until he finds the picture app and snaps a bunch of selfies, one with Joel showing the finger and the other an abstract blur. They both sit awkwardly next to each other. Dracula is either playing Candy Crush or googling the definition of words the tv spits at them. 

He’s surprised he feels comfortable enough to almost fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fun !  
> Cats love dracula and it’s a selfie discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment to keep me motivated !


End file.
